


The Chocolate Tradition

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Eve, Christmas Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Hot Chocolate, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Memories, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27994005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Sometimes a traditional cup of cocoa enjoyed together on Christmas Eve in a tiny cottage in the South Downs can lead to more intimate activities . . .
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56
Collections: Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020





	The Chocolate Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katzedecimal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/gifts).



> For Good Omens Advent Calendar, 10 Dec. Prompt - Hot chocolate

_London, early 1700s_

“Oh! Look! It’s snowing!” Aziraphale looked up, turning his palm to the skies to catch one of the few snowflakes tumbling down upon the city as he walked through the streets with Crowley.

Crowley looked up and shrugged. “It won’t stick. Rarely does.”

He wrapped his cloak around himself tighter even though no snowflake would dare fall on him without obtaining his express permission first. Crowley disliked the cold, even if Aziraphale celebrated what few snowfalls came throughout the winter months. In a worse mood thanks to the falling snow, he trudged on, casting surreptitious glances at Aziraphale who was delighted by the change in weather. Aziraphale could find something positive in everything. Crowley suspected the angel could find sometime positive to say about Hell if he tried hard enough, even it if just was to state how lovely it was to be leaving it.

“Some of that newfangled hot chocolate sounds good right about now, don’t you think?” asked Aziraphale, whose sweet tooth was legendary, at least to Crowley.

“I’d rather have something with brandy in it,” muttered Crowley.

“Where is your sense of adventure?”

“It went into hiding a few years ago after learning what you consider fun. I haven’t been able to coax it back out. It doesn’t like being subjected to boredom.”

“You’re such a ridiculous being at times, Crowley.”

“Fine. I’ll take you to a chocolate house. Rumours are they are places you wouldn’t like, but if you really want to go . . .”

On they strolled down St. James Street until they came upon White’s Chocolate House, which looked rather unassuming from the outside with its white stone facade and curtain-covered windows. Not a sound could be heard from behind the closed door. It seemed respectable and that made Crowley suspicious. He turned to Aziraphale, his long hair tightly curled in that ridiculous style of the times bobbing slightly with the movement. 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, very. What has got into you, Crowley? I don’t understand.”

“Look at that! Just look at it! It’s deceiving. It’s too quiet to be that reputable in the inside.”

“Open the door and let’s find out.”

Defeated, Crowley wrenched open the door expected the worst. He wasn’t surprised. Peering in, he saw a place where he would readily do business and tarnish souls at a rate that would astound even Beelzebub. A smoky room filled with crowded tables met his gaze and he listened to the cacophony of sound issuing forth from the gamblers at those tables who were drinking mugs of liquid chocolate as they placed their bets. One broke man sat face-down at his table, his head buried in his arm and his large curly wig threatening to tumble off on to the table-top, sobbing. Another begged the moneylender for yet another loan. A few sat back, smiling broadly as they counted their winnings. A pair was betting on who would be the next to lose a large amount of money. Behind them all, a tipped-over candle was starting to burn out-of-control, unobserved by anyone in the room.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who was standing rooted to the pavement, sky blue eyes large in absolute shock.

“Shall we go in?”

“No. No, thanks,” replied Aziraphale, recovering. “It’s Christmastime and I’m looking for some place a little more festive.”

~*~*~

_South Downs, present day_

It was too warm to snow this very first winter in the cottage, but still cold enough for the fire in the fireplace that made the living room rather cosy with its warmth and flickering light. They sat on the couch, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands like they had every Christmas Eve since that fateful one back in the early 1700s. That one aborted trip to a chocolate house had given birth to a tradition between the angel and demon. Now, they sat in the home of their own making where they could continue their tradition of a mug of cocoa together on Christmas Eve without worrying about if one side or the other found out about it. It was all Aziraphale’s idea; Crowley had no use for holidays as long as he was aligned with Hell. Now that he was on his own side, he didn’t mind religion that much and rather enjoyed the festive tree Aziraphale had set up in the living room window, its fairy lights twinkling out for the few passers-by to this area to see.

Crowley never knew if the child born in Bethlehem was the son of God or it was all just a celestial publicity stunt to give hope to the humans. He never asked Aziraphale and in the end, he didn’t care. The holiday made Aziraphale happy, and he found that rather contagious as he could afford to be happy now. He smiled and recalled that evening they almost stepped into White’s Chocolate House. 

“The look on your face.”

Aziraphale knew exactly what he was talking about without looking up from the fire. He took a long sip before replying.

“That was long before I was interested in a little debauchery.”

He had slid closer to Crowley, running his hand up the black jumper he wore — a compromise as Aziraphale loved Christmas jumpers and Crowley was rather monochromatic with his wardrobe. At least the angel got him to wear an actual one even if it wasn’t one that had holiday spirit. Aziraphale’s was beige with a Christmas tree on the front as he couldn’t quite yet leave his chosen aesthetic, either. 

“Come now, angel. Touching is not debauchery.”

“Oh? Do you want me to show you what I’ve learned in the intervening years?” Aziraphale paused to take a sip and wait for Crowley’s reply to that question.

Crowley’s eyebrows all but disappeared into his hairline. “You? Learned how not to be the purest of angels? Do tell.”

He couldn’t get another word in after that as Aziraphale’s lips were fastened on his in a deep kiss that tasted of the rich cocoa he had just drunk. Oh, that was good — chocolate mixed the heady feeling of being able to kiss the one you loved whenever the mood took one of you. Crowley sighed into Aziraphale’s mouth in contentment, pulling him in closer, reaching in to touch his tongue against the angel’s. Now their jumpers were touching as well — beige against black, the knitted Christmas tree sandwiched between them. Suddenly Crowley longed for there to be less between them even if this was just supposed to be a nice night spent on the couch sipping cocoa before a roaring fire.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, lips moving against Aziraphale’s.

“What?”

“That these jumpers are getting rather hot.”

“Now who’s exhibiting debauchery?”

“Of course I am. Debauchery is part of my job description. Get it off or I will.”

He fisted a hand in the knitted material, pulling it up until Aziraphale conceded and helped him out by pulling his arms out before Crowley managed to clumsily yank it one-handed over his head. Now he was looking at his beautiful angel sitting before him with that deliciously plump stomach Crowley so loved planting kisses on. The demon smiled before touching Aziraphale’s sternum, stroking the light covering of down-fine blond hair the angel had on his chest. 

“I think I’m unwrapping my gift early.”

“I’ll forgive you this once,” replied Aziraphale, the light of the fire flickering across his eyes. “If you let me open mine as well.”

“Done.” Crowley peeled off his jumper rather quickly, tossing it on the quaint rug that covered the living room’s hardwood floor. 

They embraced each other for a time, wanting to go slowly and enjoy the intimate contact with each other. Their sex had taken on a leisurely pace since moving to the cottage as if the bustle of London had turned it into something more frenzied and the rural life here brought them in sharper focus with each other, igniting a want to explore rather than rush through it for the thrill at the end. Maybe London had subconsciously reminded them of their sides. While in the city, they had the constant eyes of Heaven and Hell on them. Here, nobody was watching any more and really, that was the greatest Christmas gift they could have received. 

Crowley nibbled down Aziraphale’s delectable neck, enjoying every second of it before he threw his own head back and let the angel have his turn as well. Aziraphale was becoming skilled at this now that he was completely unfettered. He licked at Crowley, tasting the salt on his skin and enjoying the feel of its softness under his hands. In the meantime, Crowley’s own hands were exploring Aziraphale’s back, tickling at his shoulder blades and moving in circles around the nape of his neck, both erogenous zones Aziraphale had no idea he even had until recently. He moaned in reply to those questing fingers.

“Crowley, my dear. My love.”

He felt his trousers being unzipped and allowed it to happen, leaning back so Crowley could strip him of everything he wore and dump it on the floor with their discarded jumpers. Crowley breathed in amazement staring down at his angel, loving that he had the privilege of knowing him in such a manner. He tickled that belly made round in part by a love of hot chocolate and Aziraphale laughed while playfully trying to slap his hands away. Crowley kept it up, knowing Aziraphale didn’t mind a good tickle. He dug his fingers in carefully, wiggling them in a manner that would produce pleasurable feelings for Aziraphale while he listened to the peals of happy laughter. It was music to his ears. He could spend an eternity listening to that beautiful sound.

“I give up!” cried Aziraphale, finally. “Oh, my goodness, you’ve about worn me out and we’re just starting!”

“Sorry!” 

Crowley now kissed that belly in apology, lips gently circling Aziraphale’s bellybutton. Useless things. Why did they even have them? No matter, they sure were fun to lick at and he loved the response he received, although he was now contemplating moving south. Those thighs needed some worship. He eyed them, wanting very badly to cover them with kisses, to feel Aziraphale tremble beneath his ministrations. His hands were soon there, tracing over the faint stretch marks that had developed over the centuries, but they just added character. Aziraphale was perfect the way he was, no matter what others might have thought about him.

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right? You’ve kind of stopped.”

“What? Oh, no, angel. I’m fine. I want to enjoy this. I want you to enjoy it.”

“I am, but it would be lovely to touch you in return.”

He sat up to touch Crowley’s trouser leg with a finger, leaving Crowley just as naked at Aziraphale was. Smiling he put a hand on Crowley’s cock, wrapping his fingers around it and securing the circle he had it now trapped in with his thumb. That plump hand pumped ever so gently, pulling up and pushing down at a rate that captured Crowley’s attention and kept it. Aziraphale smiled as he gazed lovingly into his partner’s eyes. His thumb circled the tip bringing forth a drop of liquid before he eventually wandered further down to scratch at his inner thigh and caress his balls before returning to the main event. Now he had two hands around it, grasping it just tightly enough as he pumped and kept constant eye contact with Crowley.

“You deserve this, my love. I . . . I never showed my appreciation as much as I should have.”

“You showed what you could,” Crowley’s whisper was rough. He was fighting to keep control of his voice while Aziraphale worked.

More liquid was forthcoming, a drop or two running down the head of Crowley’s cock to where Aziraphale could feel it on his palm. He let go, leaning forward instead to draw it into his mouth slowly, using his tongue to wet it as he drew his mouth along its length, adding a little at a time, to the pleasurable torture of Crowley. Aziraphale felt the demon shudder through his hands which rested on those skinny thighs, snake-like in every form. He could taste him, the saltiness mixing with, then replacing the sweetness left in his mouth from the cocoa. Skilfully, he drew his mouth off, pulling Crowley’s cock out slowly, licking all the shaft that he could and especially concentrating on the head where he had learned to lick along the underside, touching his tongue’s tip to the frenulum. Crowley moaned loudly in response, a sound that pleased Aziraphale. 

He drew Crowley’s cock fully, feeling it start to enter his throat before he stopped and started to suck. Hard. Crowley jumped before settling in to enjoy it. Aziraphale reached up, his hand searching for Crowley’s as he sucked, and Crowley extended it, grasping Aziraphale’s fingers in his as he talked to him.

“You’re doing wonderfully, angel. Oh! Right there!”

Aziraphale pressed his tongue hard against Crowley’s shaft as he sucked. His free hand sat on his thigh, fingers gripping it, feeling the snake-like muscles Crowley retained in this form. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a pop from the fireplace followed by the endless crackling that had been displaced and forgotten as he performed the blow job. Heat wafted over him, registering now that the outside environment was interrupting his concentration slightly. He remembered the cooling cocoa in both their mugs and quickly put it out of his mind as he licked and sucked. Sometimes, traditions were overridden and that was fine. Aziraphale was not going to let his mind spiral out of control and think about hot chocolate during sex. 

He felt Crowley’s hand in his hair now as the demon kept up the encouragement. Emboldened by the praise, he continued, adding a bit of a tease by replacing his mouth with his hand for a while. He rubbed his thumb very slowly up and down the underside of the shaft, tickling along the most sensitive of areas while Crowley groaned and his own jaw enjoyed its rest. Feeling less achy, he gave in and switched to his mouth one more time as the friction of his hand dried up the wetness on Crowley’s cock.

“You rubbed me to the breaking point angel. I’m going to come.”

“That’s all right, dear. I’m prepared.” Aziraphale’s voice was muffled but clear enough for Crowley to understand. 

And Aziraphale was. When Crowley finally groaned out his orgasm, the angel had a miracle in place to vanish the mess as it entered his mouth. It was just more convenient that way. He pulled himself up onto a boneless Crowley to cuddle, the demon noticing he was still hard and reaching down to caress between his legs. Aziraphale whimpered in pleasure, causing Crowley to break out in a wide smile. That demon was up to something, he just knew it.

A bowl of melted chocolate appeared in Crowley’s hand. He dipped a finger in it then offered it to Aziraphale who gladly licked it off with a little embellishment before quirking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s delicious, but why did you conjure that up?”

Crowley’s gaze flicked downward towards Aziraphale hips as he laughed. “You’ll see.”

What occurred, they decided, could almost become a chocolate tradition in its own right. 


End file.
